Timelines To Go Before I Sleep
by Magica Draconia
Summary: Searching the timelines for a future where they win, Doctor Stephen Strange finds it in the fifth one. But it's not a future he's willing to accept, so he looks for another one. And he looks. And he looks. And he looks. Written for the IronStrange Bingo I3: Time and the Trope Bingo G4: Time-Travel.


"Unbelievable!" He paced back and forth in front of the large skylight window, his Cloak flaring out more dramatically with every turn. "I'm the Sorcerer Supreme; there is _no way_ that I should only find _one_ workable solution!"

"Strange." The calm voice coming from behind him made him pause in his movements. "You're going to have to explain things a bit more. What exactly are we doing here?"

Sighing, Doctor Stephen Strange reluctantly turned to face his companion. Tony Stark was leaning against the railing that overlooked the stairs – and didn't _that_ give him heart palpitations, remembering Kaecilius toppling him over it – his arms folded across his chest. He looked a good deal better than he had the last time Strange had seen him.

"Thanos is coming," Stephen informed him. "I've been looking through the timelines, trying to find out how we win." He frowned. "So far, I've only been able to find one." And it was not one that he really wanted to come to pass.

Tony tilted his head. _This_ Stark didn't know anything about Thanos yet, or his Children – _no, no, don't think about Ebony Maw and his torturous needles_ – but he'd been anticipating _someone's_ arrival for years, if Stephen's sources – read, Banner – were correct. Maybe he'd have an idea of a different action Stephen could search the timelines for. Something that would make a _difference_.

"How many have you looked through?" asked Tony.

"Fourteen million, six hundred and five," said Stephen. _Roughly_. To be honest, he'd stopped really counting round about the fourteen million, three hundred mark.

Tony whistled in amazement. "Fourteen million, six hundred, huh?" he repeated. "And how many of those did we win?"

Stephen shuddered. "Just one," he repeated, softly.

"Well, that's good, right?" Tony asked. "I mean, yeah, okay, it's not _great_, but at least you know there _is_ a way to win."

"No." Stephen's voice caught in his throat, and he coughed to clear it. "No," he repeated, firmly. "It's not a good way to win. I need to find another one."

"Stephen." Tony finally unfolded his arms and took a step closer to where Stephen was still standing. "I don't think you really have a lot of choice here. It's taken you over fourteen million, six hundred timelines to find _one_—" He abruptly stopped talking, as Stephen slowly shook his head.

The Cloak tightened itself around Stephen in its best approximation of a hug. The essence of it had travelled with him and had seen all of the timelines just as he had. It couldn't say as much, but Stephen was certain that it agreed with him. That particular winning timeline could _not_ be allowed to happen.

"We won in the fifth timeline I looked at," he explained now to Tony. "But the cost for it . . ." He shook his head again. "The cost is . . . indescribable. _There has to be another way for us to win!_"

Tony raised an eyebrow but remained silent, his gaze fixed on Stephen's face as though he'd be able to see everything that Stephen had seen – had _lived_ through – if he just looked hard enough.

Stephen gazed back. It was ridiculous just how _vital_ this man was to their universe. Fourteen million, six hundred timelines – in each and every one of them, if Tony was killed before Thanos got all the Infinity Stones and enacted his plan, then _all_ life perished. Forever. Permanently. No matter who else survived, how many different tiny little actions were changed, if Tony Stark didn't survive, then nothing did.

Tony took another step closer and rested a hand on Stephen's shoulder. "If it hasn't happened in over fourteen million futures, then I think the one chance is all we've got," he said. "You have to use it."

"Weren't you _listening_?" Stephen snarled at him. "What good is it if we win, if we also lose—" His voice gave out again.

"For the survival of the universe?" Tony gave him a wry smile. "That's worth _everything_." He gave Stephen's shoulder a little pat. "You have to stop now," he said, calmly. "You know what you have to do to win."

"But—" _But I CAN'T!_ Stephen couldn't get the words out past the lump in his throat.

Tony apparently heard them anyway. "But you will," he said. "You must. Ball's in your court now, Merlin."

Feeling the weight of all the timelines he'd lived through settle onto his shoulders, Stephen knew he was right. He'd tried every which way he could think of to save Tony, and even a few he hadn't thought of, and nothing had worked. He couldn't defeat Thanos _and_ save Tony . . . and much as he detested it, Thanos had to be stopped. They couldn't risk him completing his plans.

"Go," said Tony, stepping back from him. "Save the universe, then come and see me; we can discuss how rubbish your plans were without me."

Oh, how Stephen wished he'd be able to do that. "I can't," he said, his voice picking up an ever-so-slight echo as the Time Stone stirred itself into action again. "I'm not really in this universe."

"That's okay," Tony sighed, as green wisps began to curl upwards around his legs and he began to fade away, "neither am I."


End file.
